


Chocolate and Toffee

by Elfflame



Series: Seamus + Blaise [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Love Triangle, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-07-25
Updated: 2005-07-25
Packaged: 2017-10-18 15:41:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/190427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elfflame/pseuds/Elfflame
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seamus wants them both.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chocolate and Toffee

**Author's Note:**

> When I found out that Blaise was black, it just popped into my head. Because the only two people I ship Seamus with are Dean and Blaise. And since they're both black... I hope everyone likes it.  
> A huge thank you to Saoni, who betad this out of the blue after I fangirled off her story Dream over at lj, which is Dean/Seamus. She absolutely knocked my socks off with her advice. This wouldn't be half as good without her. :D  
>  **Disclaimer:** The characters are not mine. They're hers, and she probably never intended this when she told us about Blaise... ;)

****

* * *

**Chocolate and Toffee**

 _By Elfflame_

Seamus knew it was a problem. But he couldn't help himself.

When he was with Dean, all he could think about were long, slanted eyes and a sneering smile. But when he was with Blaise, all he wanted was that easy laugh and sparkling brown eyes.

Dean's skin was like chocolate—the kind Seamus bought at Honeydukes that melted in his mouth and made him feel like he was eating pure sex. Blaise's skin was like toffee. It tasted of richness, but less sweet and more hidden in its depths. But there was a hint of cinnamon, as though there was something lurking just below the surface that could sting.

Dean would spend hours sketching him before Seamus finally pulled him from his drawings to bed, where they would always take their time, uncovering each other's bodies, caressing before they even kissed, and tasting every part of each other before finally succumbing and riding a wave of pleasure together.

He never knew when Blaise would find him. The first time was in the bathroom on the third floor. Blaise hadn't said a word, just looked at him with those slanted eyes, then moved towards him. His brain had felt as though it were on fire as he watched the boy slink towards him catlike. Blaise's hand had nudged him through his robes, and Seamus knew he was lost. A mouth attached to his neck, nibbling and sucking as long, slender fingers found their way into his robe, and the next thing he remembered, he was slumped against the sink he had been standing in front of, a stain spreading across his trousers.

Blaise's smirk had greeted him when he recovered, then the other boy had turned and left the room with only a simple, "Next time, Finnigan," drifting behind him.

He'd felt so guilty that night he had completely avoided Dean. But Dean hadn't even noticed, and when Blaise had not accosted him when they passed in the halls the next day, Seamus breathed a sigh of relief.

That respite, sadly, was short-lived.

Before the week was out, Blaise had cornered him again. This time in the library. It had been the first time they'd kissed. Blaise's tongue was bitter, and his mouth tasted of cherries, as though he had been sucking a lolly only moments before. His kisses had been possessive and violent, but Seamus couldn't help but respond. Dean's voice had called to him after a moment of this, and Blaise's whisper in his ear only registered after the other boy had left the stacks. "Next time, I taste you, Finnigan."

Seamus had straightened his clothing the best he could, grabbed the book he had been about to take off the shelf when Blaise had accosted him, and hurried out to sit with Dean once more, sure his face was still flushed from the encounter.

Dean's kisses were never possessive. In fact, Seamus was the one who had initiated their first kiss. Dean had been going on about how his dad was taking him to see West Ham's next game for his coming fifteenth birthday. He'd been grinning, and talking about how fabulous their new goalie was, and that he hadn't been to a game alone with his dad since he was small. Seamus hadn't understood half of what Dean had said about his beloved team, but he hadn't been able to resist the grin on his face, and before he knew it, he'd leaned over and kissed him.

He'd pulled away quickly, horrified by what he'd done, and sure that Dean was about to slug him. But Dean looked at him with huge eyes, and it was only a moment before Dean himself had leaned forward and initiated his own kiss. It had been cautious and unsure, but it had nearly broken his heart when Dean pulled away.

They'd had a very long discussion after that. Dean hadn't even realized that Seamus was gay, let alone that he felt that way about his best friend.

"But," he said, "I certainly don't hate it." And he'd smiled. Their relationship had been slow in blooming. After all, Seamus hadn't been with anyone else, and neither had Dean. And there was the summer to get through, and roommates to avoid. They certainly didn't want people finding out until they were sure that this relationship wasn't just experimentation. And when that year ended with the death of one of the Tri-Wizard champions, Seamus knew he wouldn't be seeing Dean until autumn.

It had been a long summer, made longer by the fact that he had to constantly keep arguing with his mother about letting him even go back to Hogwarts.

By the time September first rolled around, he was sure he'd never see Dean again. And the joy of just making it to the platform had been enough at first. But it had been difficult, sitting in their train carriage with the others, talking like they were simply friends. And by the time they'd gotten to Hogwarts, Seamus was about ready to do anything to be alone with Dean. He'd pulled him into an alcove as the rest of the school poured into the Great Hall, and snogged him then and there.

They'd gotten even closer that year. Dean refused to take his side against Harry, but even so, he couldn't resist wanting to be with him. After all, there was no one else for him, right? At least, until Blaise had cornered him in the toilets that day.

After that, it was a matter of keeping Dean from knowing. Seamus didn't want to hurt him, still wanted him. Desperately, in fact. But Blaise… He couldn't stop thinking about him. Couldn't stop comparing the two boys.

And it grew worse each time. Each kiss was torture, each quick, hot fuck. He'd go back to the common room after, and wonder what it was he was doing. How could he do this to Dean? Why didn't he just tell Blaise to shove off?

But he knew why. As much as he adored chocolate, he needed his toffee, too.

So when Dean found out, he had no excuse. He could do nothing but sit there as Dean, hurt, angry and horrified, asked him why. He couldn't answer.

So Dean took that as his answer. And turned to Ginny.

It was the first time Seamus went out seeking Blaise. He found him in the library, studying for his OWLs. He sat down across from him and waited for the other boy to speak. Surely this meant he would be torn in half no longer, right?

Finally, Blaise's dark eyes rose from the book he'd been scanning. "Is there something you needed, Finnigan?"

His voice came out hoarse from the tears he'd been holding back. "I… I thought we could go somewhere and…" He realized it was the most he'd ever said to Blaise. Usually it was, "God," or, "Don't stop." He felt flushed and awkward and he just needed to forget.

Blaise's vague scowl spread into a sneer. "And what, Finnigan? Talk? What makes you think I'd even want to talk with the likes of you?" With that, he stood and gathered his books, throwing, "Frankly I wouldn't be caught dead with you," over his shoulder as he left.

Seamus sat at that table for a long time. And now he had a new way to compare them. Losing Dean had been a punch to the gut. But it had been an expected blow, long in coming. Losing Blaise… He could still feel the blade that Blaise had stuck in his heart. He'd let himself be played. By a Slytherin. How could he have possibly forgotten that?

It would be a long time before he forgave himself.

 _Fin_


End file.
